


too hard, heart first

by finkpishnets



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9084199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: Robert Sugden's not a Hero.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bugmadoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugmadoo/gifts).



> written for the [robronholidayexchange](http://robronholidayexchange.tumblr.com/). one of the things on my giftees list of likes was 'creative aus' and whilst i'm not sure this is at all creative, i hope you like it anyway. happy holidays!

 

 

**~**

 

 

Robert Sugden’s not a Hero.

Which isn’t self-doubt or modesty or any of those things. Robert Sugden’s Not a Hero — capitalised just to make the point extra clear — and nobody has ever thought otherwise. His _dad_ was a Hero. His brother may have gone through a few dark patches, later put down to The Forces of Evil, but he’s still a Hero. His little sister is definitely, without a doubt, a Hero. 

Robert, though—

Robert’s the guy most people shy away from, crossing their fingers that someone — _anyone_ — else is going to show up to save the day instead.

To be fair, Robert gave up even _trying_ to be a Hero about the time he realised that everyone was more likely to remember the one thing you did _wrong_ than the dozens you did right, and also because there were only so many articles you could read as a teenage boy speculating your moral decency before you decided to say _‘fuck you all.’_

He’s not a _Villain_ — frankly the predictability of that would have put him off before he’d ever considered it — but he’s also not going to be the first one to run towards the giant explosions or the glowing beams of light, and, okay, he’s not going to leave a child in the path of a runaway truck either, but that’s just common human decency and the shitty blogs that suggested otherwise can choke on their internet anonymity for all Robert cares.

So he’s not a Hero.

Which is why he’s not sure what he’s doing hanging out the twenty-seventh floor of a building, hoping his fingers don’t cramp up so he drops the stranger holding onto him for dear life.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Later, after the Real Heroes have arrived to Save the Day along with ambulances and news crews and the standard fifty page disclaimer for all parties involved to sign, Robert slips away. It’s not hard. Even Katie only shoots him the one scathing look, which is both a surprise and hugely relieving considering her trashy tabloid is usually the bane of Robert’s existence. 

(Which, yes, _okay_ , so he and Katie have history. History which may or may not involve his brother, a wedding, and Robert not noticing the ridiculously huge spaceship until it was too late.  


It’s not _entirely_ his fault.

…It’s a little bit his fault.)

He picks up a microwavable lasagne and a six pack on his way home since he’s pretty sure the only things in his fridge are half an overly soft cucumber and the jar of quince jelly Vic sent him away with last weekend. He’s normally better about cooking, or at least _eating_ , but it was a crazy week even _before_ the whole ‘sonic weapon almost takes out entire office building’ incident. 

The estate agent who showed him around his flat called it ‘cosy’, but Robert thinks ‘crap’ is a better description. It’s _his_ though, which is more than enough after faking his way through years with the Whites, even if his upstairs neighbours think Eminem is the height of musical talent and the shower won’t stop leaking no matter what he tries. He doesn’t miss Lawrence’s suffocating disapproval or Chrissie’s careless patronisation or Rebecca’s intense attachment, and he _definitely_ doesn’t miss Lachlan’s…well, not even anything specific. He just doesn’t miss Lachlan. He _does_ miss the security that came with the big house and the money and the job, of course, but leaving (or, yeah, okay, _being kicked out_ ) really was for the best, in the end.

He had to tell himself that every day for two months before it started to sink in. Now he almost entirely means it.

There’s still a couple hours of paperwork he needs to do, and there’s an answerphone message from Diane asking him to get back to her about lunch next Sunday, but his fingers are bruised and his shoulder’s throbbing and it takes any energy he has left to swallow two Neurofen and crawl into bed, letting the steady drip of the shower lull him to sleep.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“God, Rob, are you okay?” Vic says when he finally wakes up enough to answer his phone. There’s a clatter of pots and pans in the background and Robert’s once again reminded that his little sister is capable of being a full-time Hero _and_ running a successful catering business, which makes him feel simultaneously useless and incredibly proud.

“What?” he says, blinking against the sunlight and cursing himself for forgetting to close his blinds before he passed out. “Oh,” he says when the words sink in. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine, Vic. It was nothing.”

“ _Nothing?_ ” Vic says. “Rob, you were halfway out of a window holding on to a fully grown man for _twenty minutes_. You don’t even have super strength. That’s definitely not nothing.”

Robert rubs his palm over his eyes and frowns at his alarm clock. His alarm clock blinks innocently back like it’s not set to go off at the same time every day and seemingly forgot to do so this morning. “How do you even know I was there, Vic?”

“Diane,” she says, sheepishly. “Well, I mean, Andy told Diane, and Katie told Andy, _so_ …”

“So Katie’s gossiping about me again then,” Robert says, and Vic sighs.

“It’s not like that,” she says. “She was worried. We _all_ were.”

“Sure,” Robert says because he doesn’t have the heart to disillusion her. It’s not her fault she’s the sort of good that sees the best in the people she loves, and it’s not her fault that the rest of them couldn’t reach that level if they tried.

“Come to lunch on Sunday,” Vic says, and the note of pleading stirs the guilt at the back of Robert’s throat.

“Maybe,” he says.

They both know it’s the most committal answer she’s going to get.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Robert calls in sick from work which is enough of a rarity that he’s given three days with no questions, just Maddie, his bosses personal assistant, recommending five different types of general medication that makes him wonder about her drug dependency.

He naps for another couple of hours, wakes up enough to shower, and then digs around his drawers until he finds a pair of worn joggers and a plain long-sleeved t-shirt he doesn’t remember buying. The paperwork he still has to do is on the kitchen table where he left it, and he stares at it for a long moment before grabbing his jacket and keys.

He’s not used to having time to himself. Before the Whites he’d always been working, trying to rise up the ladder, and then he’d been trying to impress Lawrence and keep Chrissie happy. Afterwards it had been a quick dash to find someone who would hire him before toxic words started spreading, and Robert’s sure he should be ashamed about sleeping with both sisters, but back then he was more worried about his career than the emotional ramifications of his actions.

(Which, yeah.

Seriously.

Not a Hero.)

He ends up in a cafe a few streets away he’s never been to before. Normally he occupies one of the places closest to work where he routinely drops five pounds on coffee with pretentious names and weird syrups just to look like all the other young professionals buying coffee with pretentious names and weird syrups.

It’s not that Robert’s obsessed with fitting in, it’s just that he never _has_.

Not with the Sugdens, founding family of the Hero Society. Not with the Whites, non-superpowered elite of the business world. Not with _anyone_.

Hence the coffee, he supposes.

(If he ever saw a therapist like everyone’s always banging on about, he’s sure they’d have a field day with that.)

This cafe doesn’t have pretentious sounding drinks, just tea or coffee — black or white, sugar on the table — and the sorts of greasy foods he stopped eating at the same time he pretended he actually used his ridiculously expensive gym membership and never remembered to go back to enjoying.

He orders a white tea and sausage, egg, and chips, and slips into a table near the window, refusing to cringe at the grease stains under the cheap plastic ketchup dispenser.

He’s just downloaded a crappy game onto his phone to pass the time when someone stops near his chair. He looks up expecting the server only to find a man staring at him with wide, serious eyes, and it takes Robert a couple of beats to place him.

“It’s you,” the man says, and Robert blinks up at him awkwardly.

“Yeah,” he says, stumbling over what you say to the stranger you last saw on the verge of falling to his death and eventually coming up with the answer that would probably be the first thing to pop into most people’s minds. “How are you?”

“What?” the man says. “Oh, yeah, I’m okay. Sorta. I mean… Look, sorry, I don’t mean to take up your time or anything, I just didn’t expect to see you here and I wanted to say thanks. I didn’t get the chance yesterday. No one could tell me who you were, and then there was a ton of bloody paperwork to sign—”

“Yeah,” Robert says, rubbing his palm across the back of his neck, “they do that. It’s an administrative nightmare, the whole Hero gig. I mean, apparently.”

“Right, yeah,” the man says. He’s wearing a jumper that’s a size too big and the sleeves keep falling down over his knuckles. “So, yeah. Thanks. Really.” 

“You’re welcome,” Robert says, because it seems like the only appropriate response.

Another bloke comes through the door, calling a cheery hello to the woman behind the counter, and Robert frowns at the voice a little, wondering why he feels like he should be able to place it, before the man who’s life he saved and name he doesn’t even know shrugs and waves in the general direction of the door.

“That’s my ride,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Right,” Robert says, really glad he’s not a Hero and therefore isn’t required to be anything except completely awful at this part. “Bye.”

“Bye,” the man says.

Robert watches him leave and wonders if he shouldn’t have stuck to that paperwork after all.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?” Vic says, barging into his flat. She’s got about three bags for life over one arm and what looks like a wok in the other, which isn’t as weird as the part where she’s actually _in his flat_. Robert’s been so careful to keep this part of his life quiet that he’s not sure he’s ever even given her his address.

Then again, his sister is a legitimate Hero and can probably find these things out in about three seconds if she wants.

“Tell you _what?_ ” Robert asks. “Vic, why are you putting oysters in my fridge? That thing hasn’t seen anything fancier than Marks and Spencer potato salad, you’ll probably send it into shock.”

“Oh shush,” she says, patting the fridge door. “She knows how to appreciate fine food. I thought _you_ did, too.”

Robert rolls his eyes. “I do appreciate fine food,” he says. “My wallet, on the other hand, would disagree.”

Vic gives him a soft, sympathetic look he would hate from anyone else and still kind of hates from her but lets slide because she’s pulling bottled beer from one of her bags. 

“What are you doing here, Vic?” he says, and Vic stops what she’s doing to put her hands on her hips.

“ _Right_ ,” she says. “Why didn’t you tell me it was _Aaron_.”

And, okay, yeah. Robert’s lost.

“What?”

“The guy! The one you saved! Why didn’t you tell me it was _Aaron?_ ”

The words finally start making sense, and Robert wonders how he didn’t know and whether coincidence is a thing he’s allowed to believe in. He’s never met Aaron but he’s heard of him, at least in conjunction to Adam, who’s…his best friend, maybe? Robert usually lets Vic’s gossip wash over him, to be honest, so he’s not entirely sure, but it’s definitely to do with Adam because Vic has a different tone of voice when she’s talking about him. Robert’s not met _Adam_ , either, but that’s more on him than anything else and his usual avoidance of any and all family function for the past several months.

“I didn’t know,” Robert says eventually, and Vic bites her lip and looks surprised. He wonders why for about half a second before he remembers who he’s related to. “I didn’t know he was your boyfriend’s mate, Vic.”

“Right, no, I know,” Vic says. “I mean, if you say you didn’t know… But you would have helped anyone, of course you would have. Don’t listen to me, I’m being daft. I was just scared about ya, and Adam’s been a right mess about Aaron. He’d kip on his floor if Aaron wasn’t likely to boot him in the face for it.”

“What did they think I’d get out of it?” Robert asks, because he’s never known how to let things lie and because he genuinely wants to know. “Did they think I’d set the whole thing up, or was it just a right place, right person, situation? Am I supposed to be doing this to get to you or Adam?”

Vic’s fingers twist in one of her bags for life, pulling at the plastic until it begins to stretch thin. “They mean well,” she says, as though that’s what Robert was asking. “They just… It’s not like you haven’t done some stuff, in the past.”

“We’ve all done stuff in the past, Vic,” he says, surprised by how quickly the anger’s starting to crack into hurt. “Andy and Katie really shouldn’t throw stones in glass houses.”

“I know,” Vic says, and Robert hates the sad note in her voice but hates how quick everyone is to believe the worst of him more. “I know.”

“Good,” he says, and wishes he meant it.

 

 

**~**

 

 

The second time he runs into Aaron, it’s outside Robert’s office building.

Robert’s decided since The Incident that he definitely believes in coincidences, but this is a little _too_ specific even for him. He raises an eyebrow as Aaron ducks his head and doesn’t quite meet his eye.

“Hi,” Robert says, even though he’s running late and he has a conference call in twenty minutes. His briefcase feels suddenly twice as heavy and he drops it unceremoniously on the ground.

“Hey,” Aaron says. “Uh, sorry to just accost you like this. I swear I’m not stalking you or anything.”

“Right,” Robert says. “Okay.”

Aaron tugs the sleeves of his jumper — a different one but still too big, and Robert wonders if he _owns_ clothes that fit — over his fingers. “Vic still keeps an address book. Like, one not on her phone. Your sister’s a bit weird, mate.”

“Yeah, I know,” Robert says. “Though this isn’t helping with the whole ‘not a stalker’ thing, by the way.”

He should mean it, should be telling Aaron he’s busy and he’s glad he’s alive but he’s also got work to be doing, so he needs to go. Instead he just sounds _playful_ , which is so out of character he can’t make his feet move. Luckily Aaron doesn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah,” he says, looking down at his shoes and then back up through his lashes. Robert’s stomach does something twisty. “I, uh. I just wondered if you might want to get a drink or something sometime?”

“Did Vic put you up to this?” Robert asks before he can stop himself. The thing is, he’s at least ninety-percent sure he’s right. It’s exactly the sort of thing his sister would do, try and help Robert make friends like he’s not thirty and perfectly capable of socialising. Just because he _doesn’t_ doesn’t mean he _can’t_ , and besides, after being carted around by the Whites for years he’s more than happy to spend his evenings in the company of his TV.

“What?” Aaron says, though, frowning. “No. I didn’t even know who you were until the other night, and I wanted to ask the day after everything happened.”

Robert’s surprised by how much he wants to believe him. “Why?” he says. “Because I saved your life?”

Aaron crosses his arms defensively over his chest and glares, and _yeah_ , okay. Okay. “If I wanted to thank you for that, I’d send a bloody fruit basket.” 

“Then why didn’t you?” Robert says. “Ask then, I mean.”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, “because asking out some bloke you don’t know in the middle of a builders caff is always a smart choice.”

“Ah,” Robert says, and, yeah, he has a point, and also _holy crap_ , apparently Robert’s managed to miss the finer points of this conversation because Aaron’s looking anxious and hopeful and annoyed and he’s just standing there like a numpty. “Uh, fancy dinner instead? I have a reservation for tonight but my client cancelled on me.”

“Yeah,” Aaron says, and Robert’s fascinated by the slight tug at the corners of his mouth. “Alright then.”

“Great,” Robert says, and finds he really means it.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Dinner’s a mess. Robert’s ten minutes late and Aaron’s ten minutes later, stuck in traffic after an alien boulder took out half the motorway, so their table’s already been given away. They’re found a new one but it’s right by the door to the kitchen and instead of soft jazz they’re subjected to the clatter of plates and mayhem. Robert orders wine without thinking, and Aaron sips at it for a while before shyly asking the waiter for a beer and making Robert feel like a twat even as Aaron waves away his apologies.

The food’s fantastic, but the small talk’s jilted and stupid and Robert hates every minute of it.

“Look,” Aaron says, when the waiter leaves to get them dessert menus. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

“God yes,” Robert says, “ _please_.”

Aaron insists on paying half the bill, which Robert would normally refuse but honestly it’ll help his bank balance not to feel so battered, and it’s not like this is some traditional misogynistic bullshit anyway. They even split the tip, which is far more than Robert would normally leave because Aaron’s mum’s in the service industry and apparently he’s a giant softy.

Outside the temperature’s started to drop, and even though they’ve both driven neither of them makes a move towards the car park.

“Okay,” Robert says, because the silence is more stifling than the small talk and because Aaron’s shuffling his feet against the gravel looking more than a little dejected. “Let’s start again, yeah?”

Aaron’s eyes dart up, searching his face, and Robert watches his shoulders drop a couple of notches as he sighs in relief. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. Great.”

“Ice-cream?” Robert asks, and Aaron huffs out a laugh.

“Alright,” he says, “go on then.”

Just like that, it’s easy.

 

 

**~**

 

 

The thing about Aaron is he’s kind of a dick. He gets defensive at the drop of a hat and he rolls his eyes often enough Robert’s surprised they haven’t fallen out of his head, and he makes more than his fair share of cutting remarks that cross the line into cruelty.

Robert really likes that about him.

Of course, it doesn’t help that he’s a Dingle, and hadn’t _that_ been a surprise; he really needs to start actually listening to Vic’s casual gossip. Robert’s sort of wondering how long he can keep dating Aaron without ever having to meet his family. If his dad was still alive he’s pretty sure he’d be turning in his grave. The Dingles aren’t Villains but they’re definitely not Heroes; they’re infamous, though, and most tabloids have started throwing around the term Anti-Hero as though that’s not just asking for vigilante trouble. 

It’s not that Robert has anything against them personally, he’d just rather not be associated with questions about whether they stopped the Villain in the electricity suit because it was the Right Thing To Do or because they wanted to siphon off the power for their homemade brewery.

So, yeah, Aaron’s a Dingle but Robert’s not going to hold that against him.

(The other thing about Aaron is that he has one of the biggest hearts of anyone Robert’s ever met, and that’s Robert’s only excuse for how hard and fast he falls, in the end.)

 

 

**~**

 

 

“You’re Powered,” Aaron says one evening when they’re watching re-runs of _Tipping Point_ and eating mediocre Chinese take-away on Robert’s sofa. It’s out of the blue considering they’ve just been debating whether ketchup should be kept in the fridge or not so Robert blinks at him a few moments before replying.

“Well,” he says, “yeah. Hard not to be in my family.”

“Yeah,” Aaron says, “but what do you do? I mean, what’s your power?”

“Oh,” Robert says, shrugging and hoping he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels. Most the time he avoids talking about it but he can’t begrudge Aaron the question. “I can manipulate chemical elements.”

“Oh,” Aaron says, eyes wide. “That’s… _wow._ ”

“It’s not that impressive,” Robert says, because it’s really _not_. “It mostly just means my non-sentient belongings control my life. My briefcase is a passive-aggressive dick and my alarm clock thinks it gets to parent me.”

“…Right,” Aaron says. “Uh, are you sure you don’t just need more sleep?”

“Yeah,” Robert says, “you and my alarm clock would get on great.”

“I have one too,” Aaron says after a while. “I mean, not, like, _properly_ , and it’s not any use, but…”

“No,” Robert says, and the knot in his stomach eases a little. “ _No_ , that’s brilliant! What is it?”

“I’m good with dogs,” Aaron says, ducking his head, and Robert watches the flush spread up his throat. “It’s stupid, but yeah. They just, like, listen to me or whatever. Always want my attention and seem calmer or something when I’m around. I didn’t even realise it was a power for ages, I just thought it was ‘cause I like ‘em, you know? But, yeah, apparently they find me special or something, I don’t know.”

Of course that’s Aaron’s power. Of course it’s something as sweet as simple as being worshipped by man’s best friend, whilst Robert’s involves his dishwasher trying to have conversations with him and the eventual potential for destroying the world.

“I told you it was stupid,” Aaron says when Robert’s been quiet for too long.

“It’s not,” Robert says earnestly. “It’s really, really not. It’s _brilliant._ ”

Aaron’s eyes are wet when he looks at him, and Robert can’t help leaning over and kissing him, kissing him, kissing him.

“ _Brilliant_ ,” Robert says again, and Aaron’s fingers tighten around the sleeves of his shirt as they forget about the TV all together.

 

 

**~**

 

 

The first time Robert sees Aaron’s scars, he seriously reconsiders the whole Villain thing. 

He want to find everyone that’s ever caused him pain and use their own intestines to rip them limb from limb. Which is a pretty graphic image to come to mind the first time your boyfriend takes his shirt off in front of you. 

Robert’s no stranger to self-hatred, the only difference is he’s always turned his on other people instead of himself.

Aaron’s crossing his arms over his chest, trying to hide as much as he can, and Robert wants to burn the world to the ground. Instead he reaches out and pulls Aaron to him, dropping kisses along his neck, his collarbone, continuing lower when Aaron begins to unravel, sighing as he runs fingers through Robert’s hair. 

“I don’t need your pity,” Aaron says, though Robert can hear the relief and the need and the hope in it all the same. He’s still running fingers through Robert’s hair, grip tightening a little and shooting pleasure through Robert’s veins, and Robert keeps kissing him, lower and lower, running his tongue over the stretches of skin.

“If you think this is pity,” Robert says, mouthing the words against Aaron’s ribs, “then you’re really not paying attention.”

“God,” Aaron says, and Robert laughs.

“Not even close,” he says, and drops to his knees.

 

 

**~**

 

 

They fight, of course. They’re both too stubborn and too mad at the world and too full of insecurities not to. 

The first time there’s a Hero Related Event in the vicinity, Robert sits at the kitchen table and watches the flashes of light through the window, sipping at his coffee and wondering if there’s a way he can use this to persuade his client to double his contract.

“You should go and help,” Aaron says, glancing up from his phone where he’s shuffling through news pages, and Robert frowns.

“Why?” he says.

Aaron looks at him like he’s said something daft. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” he says, like that’s an explanation, and Robert wonders for the first time if Aaron’s created some version of him in his head that’s not even close to being the truth.

“The right thing for who?” he says, and Aaron opens his mouth and shuts it again before standing up and walking out.

Robert has a moment of intense panic that’s smothered by the usual wave of destructive anger and doesn’t go after him.

They don’t talk for three days.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Aaron’s little sister is a pain in the arse.

Robert dislikes her for about twenty minutes and then becomes so startlingly fond of her he has to say at least three sarcastic things in a row to calm down. 

“So you’re Powered but you work in an office,” Liv says, raising a mocking eyebrow like a pro. “Yeah, _that’s_ cool.”

“Liv,” Aaron says pointedly, but Robert waves him off.

“Nah,” he says, “you’re right. It’s much cooler to be non-powered and studying for my G.C.S.Es… Oh, _wait_ …”

Liv scoffs and knocks his arm so his tea spills over his trousers. “Oops,” she says with a perfectly straight face.

Robert wants to adopt her.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“I’m just so happy for you,” Vic says, and Robert rolls his eyes even though she can’t see it. The truth is, he’s happy for him too, which is a new enough feeling that he doesn’t want to share it with anyone in case he jinxes it.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, hoping his smile isn’t obvious in his voice. “What time do you want us there this weekend?”

Vic’s squeal is almost deafening.

“Three,” she says when she’s calmed down and Robert’s able to put the phone back to his ear. “Or whenever.”

“Three it is,” he says. His fridge door opens and shuts happily, obviously sensing leftovers in it’s future.

“Promise?” Vic says before she hangs up, and Robert feels bad for always putting her in the middle of something that’s never been her fault.

“Promise,” he says and means it.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Everything’s great until it’s not.

Vic’s cooking’s amazing as always, Diane’s thrilled to have Aaron there and gives Robert a huge hug, and Andy even shakes Aaron’s hand and asks him how his and Adam’s business is going. Adam shows up half and hour late with the list of things Vic sent him out for even though she already had plenty, claiming “just in case” like the overachiever she is, and it’s _not awful_.

Which probably makes it the best family meals Robert’s had in years.

It’s all fine until dessert’s served and Katie turns to Aaron and asks him how he and Robert met. 

Honestly, Robert thought she knew. Katie always seems to have the uncanny ability to know _everything_ , and at first he thinks she’s just being passive-aggressive, but then he realises she really doesn’t know, and God.

Yeah.

Right.

Vic and Adam are shooting conspiratorial looks at each other, and Robert wonders whose idea it was not to fill the rest of the family in on the details, and wants to hug them for about a million years. Not that it makes this situation any better, mind.

“Robert saved my life,” Aaron says because it’s the truth, and Robert winces, already expecting it, already—

“ _God,_ ” Katie says, looking at Robert gleefully, “don’t tell me you’d stoop that low to get into someone’s pants?”

“Really Rob,” Andy says, managing to sound disappointed and patronising all at once, “you can’t misuse your powers like that…”

“He _didn’t_ ,” Vic says, even though no one’s listening. Diane’s looking between Andy and Robert and Robert doesn’t need to read minds to know where this is going, just needs the years and years worth of experience to remember that, right, Andy’s the good kid, the wise kid, and Robert’s the overwhelming disappointment once again.

“ _Robert_ ,” Diane says, and Robert’s had enough. He’s _had enough—_

“Stop,” Aaron says, and everyone goes quiet at the barely concealed fury in his voice. “Shut up.”

“Aaron,” Katie says, and Robert wonders how well they know each other, how they even met.

“No,” Aaron says. “No. You don’t get to just spout off crap like that as if you know the slightest thing about it. _Yeah_ , Robert saved my life, but if you’d seen the bruises afterwards you’d know he didn’t use his powers at all. And, _yeah_ , Robert and I are together now, but that was _me_. I went looking for _him_.” He takes a deep breath and shoots Robert an apologetic look like Robert’s not frozen in his seat. “Think what you want but I’m not gonna sit here and let you lie about him.”

He stands up, squeezing Vic’s shoulder as he heads for the door, and Robert blinks back to reality enough to follow him as he steps outside. 

“Sorry,” Aaron says before Robert can open his mouth. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t listen to all that. Where do they get off—?”

“I love you,” Robert says, and Aaron stops dead in his tracks.

“What?” Aaron says, and his face is so open, so vulnerable.

“I love you,” Robert says again. He can’t explain it yet, can’t tell him what that meant to him, what someone _choosing him_ , choosing his side and his truth, means to him. But he can tell him this.

Aaron reaches for him, twisting his fingers in Robert’s jumper. “I love you, too,” he says, and Robert drowns in it.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Life’s as normal as it can be in a place where people routinely try to take over the world, and Robert’s still not a Hero but he is _happy_ , and God, that means so much more.

He’s good at his job, his flat’s still crap, and his shower’s taken to dripping to the beat of sappy love songs because everything about his existence is ridiculous. There’s a drawer of Aaron’s stuff in his room and he and Liv have a weekly study date so he can help her with her science, and Robert’s wondering if he shouldn’t get another key made, just in case, if Aaron _wants—_

It’s the sort of life he’s always wanted and not one he’s ever dreamt of hoping for. 

Then someone blows up his street.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Robert doesn’t even realise what’s happening at first.

He’s waiting for Aaron and Liv to arrive so they can go bowling of all things, rubbing his hair dry with a towel and wondering if he has time to call one of his clients and check they’re still on for tomorrow’s meeting when the entire building starts to shake around him.

The screams hit him moments later, and he flies to the window, squinting against the sudden darkness and taking in the chaos around him. Entire blocks of flats are being hammered with rubble ripped from the roads, and he can’t make out what’s doing it, just the shuddering quakes that suggest giant footfalls.

It’s utter mayhem, and Robert searches the perimeter, the sky, hoping the Society is already here, hoping _someone’s_ already here—

He doesn’t know why he looks down.

He doesn’t know why he looks down, but he _does_ , and his heart stops beating.

Aaron’s hunched over Liv, trying to block her from the windfall of debris that are taking out everything in their path. There are too many other people running, too many other people blocking doors and trying to break into cars, and Aaron and Liv are pressed into a corner behind a makeshift van door shelter that’s going to do absolutely _nothing_ to help them in less than a minute when whatever’s doing this takes another shot.

Robert sees red.

 

 

**~**

 

 

As it’s happening it’s little more than a blur, but he’ll remember later, when the adrenaline and fury and desperation wear off.

In the meantime, it’s flashes of moments. His arm flying out; cars twisting and moulding into shape by his will; metal and plastic blocking light from the sky; tarmac and concrete lifting in a wave; his own feet running down steps that form as he goes; the need to protect, protect, _protect_ , because no one gets to take this from him, no one gets to take his family, the one he found and chose and built for himself, _no one—_

It’s only when Andy’s hand falls on his shoulder that he stops.

“It’s okay, Rob,” his brother says, and Robert hates Andy and loves him and right now his voice is probably the only thing that could snap him out of it. “We’ve got it from here.”

Robert blinks at him, eyes still hazed in gold, and tries to find reality.

“Aaron,” he says. “Liv.”

Andy nods over his shoulder, and Robert’s moving, running, not believing anything until it’s right in front of him.

Liv’s staring at him with wide, terrified eyes, and Robert wants to tell her not to be scared but he can’t, not when he’s still shaking with terror himself. He never wanted to be this person and he’s so afraid he’s ruined it before it’s even started, but then Liv’s grabbing him in a hug, burying her face in his filthy jumper and squeezing him in a way she’d deny under any other circumstance.

“S’okay,” he says, even though they all know it’s not. “It’s okay, Liv.”

“Yeah,” she says, pulling away to rub the back of her hand over her eyes. “Not so useless after all, I guess.”

Robert’s laugh is a surprise, jagged and desperate but there, and Liv looks proud of herself.

“ _Robert_ ,” Aaron says, and just like that Robert’s frozen again.

“I’m sorry,” Robert says. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean— I couldn’t stop. I saw you and I _couldn’t stop_.”

“Don’t,” Aaron says. “God, Robert, _don’t_. You just… Do you even _know_ how powerful you are? Do you even know what you just _did?_ ”

“A lot of damage to city property,” Robert says because humour’s as much a defence mechanism as lashing out.

Aaron shakes his head and just looks at him, looks and looks and looks, and Robert always knew his powers were a curse but he hates that they could ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to him when all he’s wanted to do since he first saw Aaron is save him, and not even in a creepy metaphorical way.

“I’m sorry,” Robert says again, and Aaron shakes his head, looking at him like he’s insane.

“You’re an idiot,” Aaron says, and when he kisses him even Liv’s protests can’t make him stop.

 

 

**~**

 

 

The Society begins the post disaster clean-up, and Robert has to sign about a thousand pieces of paper. He’s tempted to pointedly ask if they recycle, but his head’s still too cloudy and, honestly, he just wants to get out of there.

Andy, at least, only asks him about what happened the once, and Robert’s never been so happy to have his brother around, not when it’s stopping a lot of unnecessary politicking. His neighbours don’t seem as pacified by Andy’s presence as the Society, though, and Robert resigns himself to having to move lest he finds himself on the other end of another hate campaign.

It doesn’t matter that he just saved their lives, all they’ll remember is that his eyes glowed gold and he moved the world with nothing more than his fingers and his wrath and he didn’t smile for the cameras at the end of the day.

“They’re being dicks,” Aaron says when one woman hurries her children away. “Seriously, I’ll deck the next person that looks at you like that.”

“It’s okay,” Robert says. Aaron’s fingers are curled around his shoulder, Liv’s falling asleep under his arm, and Robert wonders if Aaron realises just _how_ okay it is. 

He’s never had this.

He never thought he _would_.

“It doesn’t matter,” Robert says, watching blue lights dance against the shadows as another round of ambulances appear. Andy’s rounding up Heroes and pointing out rocks to be moved and car walls to be disassembled and reporters to placate, and Robert doesn’t envy him it for a moment, not when Aaron and Liv are warm and safe and _here_. “I’m not their Hero.”

Aaron’s eyes are wet with pride and love and everything Robert’s ever wanted. “No,” he says, “but you’re mine.”

And, _God_ , that’s enough.


End file.
